


Wishful Thinking

by Relvetica



Category: X/1999
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvetica/pseuds/Relvetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone grieves differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishful Thinking

Once, when times were slightly better, Seishirou had taken him out on something that could conceivably be thought of as a date. It had been just a spur of the moment thing -- _have you eaten?_ \-- but it had been a good night, a very good night, and Subaru often thinks of it now. Italian, _good_ Italian... not that he eats Italian often enough to really know the difference, but it seemed to him the best meal he had ever eaten. If he closes his eyes now and thinks about it, he can still taste the merluzzo del mediterraneo. 

The air here is hot; it seems to contain more than its fair share of human breath, cologne, and noise. He leans against a wall and feels the frantic pace of the music beat against his spine; it makes his skull vibrate in a not entirely unpleasant way. He is surrounded by life at its very height, bold, bright points of light in a vast room weaving their own beautiful patterns: for each other, yes, but mostly for themselves. The whole scene seemed pressed to its own limit already, that any new factor could burn them all out, but he knows they are strong. It will take more than him. 

The wine had been white and expensive, but he doesn't remember what it was called. It had felt heavy on his tongue; wine has always had a way of getting him in trouble. He remembers more than anything the single gold eye, narrowed with amusement, watching him from across the table. Always watching. That eye now scans the crowd in front of him with measured patience. The more things change.... 

There are eyes on him as well. Subaru looks up and meets gazes with the young man from several meters away, and after a moment he smiles. There is then the usual exchange of expressions, raised eyebrows. 

_Me?_

_Yes, you._

The unnamed other grins broadly and breaks from his exotically coloured pack, striding boldly over to get within earshot, which is less than a foot here. He is several inches taller than Subaru, and at least seven or eight years younger, spiked hair bleached and pupils far too large. He's breathing heavily from dancing. "Hey," he pants. "Get you a drink?" 

Subaru's smile widens a little, but he shakes his head demurely. "I don't drink." 

The kid laughs and continues to grin, baring his teeth slightly. "Yeah, probably smart." His hair has fallen down a bit in the humid air of the club. It's rather charming. "So, come on." He takes Subaru's hand and tugs him back in the direction of the music and the dancing. 

He resists, keeping his place against the wall. When the boy looks back at him with confusion, he laughs and twists his hand around in the other's grasp so he's holding the boy's wrist instead. He grasps the hand with his free one and presses his thumb into the boy's palm, rubbing it. "No," he says simply. 

The boy falters a little, and then looks back at his gaggle of friends, who don't seem to have even noticed that he's left. Subaru continues to rub in a tiny circle, feeling bones and tendons in the large hand give a little under the pressure. 

"Yeah," the kid says again, and he looks back down at Subaru, earlier confidence regained. "Yeah, okay." He turns and pulls Subaru in a different direction, and this time Subaru follows. 

\--- 

The light in the bathroom is much brighter and harsher than it is in the club proper, and they pause as the boy stops and blinks a few times in the doorway. There are other people in here, and it takes him a moment to spot an empty stall; when he does, he tugs Subaru along again, and Subaru lets him. There's comfort in handing control over to someone else, deep comfort. 

The bathroom is covered in graffiti, almost artfully; Subaru wonders where anyone finds the time to add to it. There are people reapplying lipstick and eyeliner here, and one kid carefully doing something with a credit card with several others hovering over him, but the stall's door closes on them and then the boy's mouth is crushed against his own. 

The teenager is sweaty from dancing; his shirt is damp where he presses up against Subaru, pushing him against the side of the stall. Subaru submits, closing his eyes as a tongue forces its way between his lips. He runs his hands up from the other's hips to shoulders, then lightly up his neck and into his hair to pull the boy down for the kiss with just enough aggression to get his point across. 

The kiss is broken off abruptly, and the boy bends down a bit to chew at Subaru's neck. Subaru hisses softly; his companion is certainly under the influence of something, but he doesn't think he's in any danger. Still, the nips are hard and his body jerks a little every time the boy's teeth close on him. There are hands at the waist of his pants, at his belt, and he moans and leans his head back. 

He can feel the teenager's heart pounding against his chest, powerful in its strength and its youth. He concentrates on that for a moment, measuring time in heartbeats, letting his breath fall into rhythm where it tickles the boy's ear. He shivers, and Subaru smiles. 

The tight black jeans take a few firm tugs to pull down from his hips, and he takes advantage of the momentary struggle to slip his hand into his pocket and quickly retrieve something. He holds it out to the boy, who acknowledges it with a grunt and takes it. Good enough. Subaru presses one hand against the boy's chest, over that heartbeat, and uses the other to cup his clearly straining erection. 

The teenager groans loudly and suddenly moves to grasp Subaru's wrists, twisting him around and pinning him against the wall. Subaru blinks rapidly, taking a moment to orient himself, and then relaxes. He turns his head so one temple is pressed to the metal wall that is more obscene artwork than it is an actual barrier, and he closes his eyes and waits. 

After all this, the boy actually manages to take his time; he kisses Subaru's neck again, and bites it until Subaru is actively cringing and gasping in pain from it. Then his hands release Subaru's, and one rests flat against the wall beside his head as the other attends to their clothing once more. Subaru's jeans and briefs are pushed to his knees, and a large warm hand settles momentarily to squeeze his ass as a hot breath sounds against his ear. He swallows. 

They both gasp as the boy thrusts into him. Subaru parts his legs as much as he can with his pants tangled around his legs, and his partner tightly grasps one hip, pulling Subaru against him roughly. Subaru takes several deep breaths, letting himself get used to everything, and then reaches back and takes the boy's wrist, pulling it away from his waist. He deliberately wraps the strong fingers around his own cock, and his own hand around the boy's, and everything else soon falls into time with that. 

The breath against his neck and cheek and hair is hot and fast, and he can't feel the boy's pulse anymore but he knows it must be racing. The pounding is as good as it ever is, indistinguishable from anything else. The smell of the other is delicious, sweat and lust and sex and half-washed away cologne; when they'd kissed he'd tasted like one of the power drinks they serve at the bar, strange and sweet. 

The teenager comes with a low growl, leaning forward to bite Subaru's shoulder as his hips rock forward with involuntary jerks. Subaru winces \-- his neck is going to a lot of ugly colours tomorrow -- but his own attention is still tightly focused by his own arousal. His grip on the boy's hand does not falter; if anything, he moves faster, urging the other on. And after a moment, the teenager catches his breath and begins to stroke Subaru's cock swiftly. 

Subaru's eyes open and focus on one of the scrawled bits of artwork on the wall in front of him. An opinion, an advertisement, a bit of wishful thinking. Months ago, after the dinner and the wine, he and Seishirou had ordered desserts, and Subaru had ignored his own to eat almost the entirety of Seishirou's off the man's own plate. And Seishirou had said something about that, but Subaru can't remember what now, and he's not even sure why he's thinking about it, the boy's hand is so warm and tight and rough, and fast, so fast, so good, _you little thief_ \-- 

He climaxes hard, bucking back up against his companion with a sharp gasp; the boy thinks quickly and wraps his free arm around Subaru's chest, pulling him away from the wall and toward himself. Subaru's head falls back against the other's shoulder as he shudders deeply. 

They stand that way for a long moment, and then Subaru carefully stands up straight. It takes him longer to pull his clothing back into order than it does the boy, but the boy stays and watches as Subaru rebuckles his belt. After a moment, Subaru looks up questioningly. 

The kid grins; his face is much easier to make out in this lighting. What little of his irises are visible are a warm shade of brown. "Hey," he says softly, "could I, um, have your number or something...?" 

Subaru stares at him. Nobody's ever asked that before.

The boy -- and he really is a boy, as fierce as he may be -- just stares back. "What?"

The teenager shrugs. "You're cute. I mean... we could hang out, you know?" 

Subaru finishes tugging his shirt straight and eyes the boy. He gazes back with an expression that is honest, but it somehow only stranger for it. Maybe in this case it's just the drugs, but Subaru knows that expression. He knows those eyes. Warm brown eyes, capable of all of a teenager's passion and none of it at all. Whose owner likes to bite. 

Subaru shakes his head to clear it. "I'm a little difficult to get a hold of by phone," he says, smiling apologetically, and thrusts his hand through the boy's chest up to his elbow. Blood gushes heavily onto the wall and splatters onto the toilet, and the boy makes a high heaving sound. It's strange, how so many of them don't scream. Subaru can't remember whether or not he did. 

The boy doesn't struggle much as he's dying; Subaru leans him against the side of the stall and presses his forehead against the boy's shoulder, feeling the heartbeat gradually slow. His partner gurgles something and tries to push Subaru away, but he's too weak now. And soon, the heartbeats stop. 

Subaru runs his hand down the young man's stomach with vague regret, and the body collapses into a small flurry of sakura petals. 

It seems so anti-climactic. 

\--- 

Subaru emerges from the stall and heads to a sink, soaping his bloody hand and running warm water over it. The boy who had the credit card before blinks at him a few times, then cautiously peeks into the vacated stall. 

"Man," he says slowly. "Are you all right?" 

Subaru shrugs and wipes his hands with a paper towel. "I've been better." He throws the towel away and leaves. 


End file.
